


Drabble Age

by TheDalishWarden



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3924436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDalishWarden/pseuds/TheDalishWarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabble request fills from my Dragon Age blog, or any other drabbles that happen to come to mind~ </p><p>Collection is currently rated Teen and Up, but the ratings will vary from chapter to chapter, and each individual chapter will have a brief summary with a proper rating and warnings in the note section.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” (Zevran/Mahariel)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”
> 
> Pairing: Zevran/F!Mahariel  
> Warnings: None

\-----

“So, heading off to slay dragons without me, hmm?” Zevran asks rhetorically as he approaches her. He’d smiling as he says it, clearly trying to make light of the dire situation they were about to face, but for once Zevran’s casual remarks don’t put Mahariel at ease. How could they, when they both stood in the middle of a burning city, fighting for their lives in street after street while still being up to their necks in Darkspawn?

She was terrified right now, not just for herself but for all the allies and companions she’d gathered in the past year, and having to chose which of her friends  would go to Fort Drakon with her hadn’t helped at all. As for the ones she was leaving behind, she wouldn’t know any of their fates until after the battle was won, and that was assuming that she even survived her encounter with the Archdemon at all.

She trusted Morrigan and had faith in her plan, even against the advisement of some of her other companions, but there was no way to be sure that the ritual had worked until the final blow was struck. There was no going back now, and until that time came there was no guarantee that she’d see any of them again. No honest way of assuring Zevran that yes, she’d return to him safe and sound once this battle was over..

“You know, it is not too late to take me with you,” Zevran continues quietly. His smile is gone now, and Mahariel knows that he must see the fear and doubt burning in her eyes, since she can clearly see it in his. “Surely it would put us both more at ease, knowing that we can watch each other’s backs-”

“No, Zevran,” Mahariel interrupts with a shake of her head, trying to ignore the pang in her chest when Zevran’s expression falls further. “You’re needed down here. The city’s still not completely evacuated yet, and I need to know that someone I trust is leading the charge.”

For a moment Zevran says nothing, his expression unreadable, but then he sighs and nods back at her.

“Fine, fine.. Just say hello to the Archdemon for me. He never writes anymore, and it’s rather distressing,” Zevran says with a dramatic wave of his hand, and Mahariel can’t help but smile this time. “And.. do watch your back, my dear Warden. No getting eaten, unless you think it’s really-”

“Hush,” Mahariel cuts him off again, smiling as she cups his face in her hands and presses her lips to his in a soft kiss. Zevran immediately slips his arms around her waist, pulling her close as he returns the kiss with vigor, but after a few moments she draws back, lest either of them lose focus on the task at hand. She hears Zevran’s quiet sigh as she pulls away, but again he seems to resign himself and he settles for gently touching his forehead against hers.

“You’d better be careful out there, Zevran, because if you die, I’m gonna kill you,“ Mahariel whispers, leaning into his warm embrace as Zevran lets out a throaty chuckle.

“I would say the same to you, but thus far you’ve displayed a wonderful talent for avoiding death, my dear,” Zevran replies quietly, smiling down at her in spite of everything. “But should the worst happen, at least I can die knowing that you will undoubtedly find me again.”

“Don’t even joke about-” Mahariel starts, but Zevran kisses her again before she can finish, and this time it’s only at the insistence of their companions that they finally pull apart and turn away from one another, leading their respective parties off in different directions and both trying not to dwell on the fear that that could’ve easily been their final kiss.

\-----

 


	2. "I thought you were dead" (Alistair/Mahariel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I thought you were dead.”
> 
> Pairing: Alistair/F!Mahariel  
> Warnings: None

\-----------------------

Maker’s Breath, _everything_ hurt..

Alistair slowly opens his eyes, blinking blearily up at the night sky above him. He can hear voices around him, hushed but familiar, and most definitely angry. He recognizes the biting tones of an argument between Leliana and Zevran, with Wynne’s much calmer voice occasionally cutting in as well. He turns his head towards the direction of the noise, trying to ignore the way the muscles of his neck burn in protest.

They were back in camp, and most of his companions stood in a circle on the other side of the fire, though he quickly notices that Sten and Morrigan were still resting in their usual spots and Dunco stood guard near the entrance of camp, barking at nearly every little noise. Oghren stood near the arguing trio, but seemed to be largely ignoring them in favor of nursing a half-empty bottle of ale, though he did pause long enough to make a muffle comment that has Leliana and Wynne both snapping at him.

What were they even arguing about? Alistair tries to sit up, grunting from the effort of moving, but he quickly falls back against his bedroll with a hiss as a sharp pain throbs through his abdomen, and the impact of his head against the ground does no favors for the faint pounding in his head. He gingerly touches a hand to his stomach, frowning when his fingertips graze against bandages wrapped around his middle.

Just how badly had he been hurt? The last thing he remembers was traveling towards Denerim with his companions, having a conversation with Mahariel while Morrigan trailed behind them, making the occasional comment about the antics of Dunco. It was early in the day, still a few hours before noon, and everything had been going smoothly before..

Oh yeah. Before the ambush.

His head throbs again as he starts to remember.. Mahariel had sensed the Darkspawn seconds before he had, and they’d barely had time to draw their weapons before they were suddenly surrounded on all sides. It was a large group, too large for a simple scouting patrol, but they’d handled much worse before, and Alistair soon fell into his usual attack pattern alongside Mahariel while Dunco stood close to Morrigan, tearing into any of the Darkspawn that tried to reach the mage.

Alistair remembers decapitating a hurlock and cutting through a pair genlocks of turning towards Mahariel to crack a joke, but he’d barely started to speak before a look of terror passed over the Elven woman’s face just as he felt a sudden grip around his middle.

He remembers his mistake clearly now. He’d gotten careless in that battle, not realizing the ogre was approaching him until it had grabbed him. He remembers crying out in pain as the ogre tightened it’s grip, long nails digging into his armor as his sword slipped from his hand. He remembers Mahariel calling out to him, and the sight of the ogre’s other clenched fist rushing towards him before everything went black.

Oh, he’d definitely messed up.. He can almost hear the snide comments Morrigan and Oghren were undoubtedly going to make as soon as she learned that he was awake, and Mahariel was definitely going to kick his-

Wait, where was Mahariel? He hadn’t seen her standing with the others. Had she gotten through the rest of the battle safely? Has she been hurt too? Panic flares through his chest, coupled with a fresh stab of pain as he forces himself up into a sitting position, but it fades when he spots her sitting only a few feet away on the other side of him.

She sat with her back to him, muttering under her breath as she sharpened what looked like one of Zevran’s daggers against a whetstone. That wasn’t good.. She only tended to her companion’s weapons when she was angry and in need of a distraction..

“Mahariel?” Alistair calls out to her quietly, his voice sounding painfully raw even to himself. Mahariel turns at the sound of her voice and her eyes fill with relief, but it’s almost instantly overshadowed by anger, making Alistair flinch on instinct.

“You!” she snaps as she tosses the dagger down, the sharp clang nearly making him flinch again as she turns around completely to face him. “Are you mad, Alistair? What were you thinking, letting your guard down in the middle of a fight?!”

“W-what? I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” Mahariel interrupts, glaring at him now. “You didn’t think it was a good idea to keep your eyes on the enemies we were surrounded by? Or you just didn’t think it was a good idea to make sure there were no damn ogres around before you dropped your guard. By the Dread Wolf, Alistair, that thing nearly ripped you in two! If Dunco hadn’t gotten it’s attention when he did-!”

“Oh, right!” Alistair cuts in, the truthful sting of her words sending a flare of anger through him, and the sharp aches still throbbing through this body weren’t helping. “I thought I’d go ahead and joke around because getting beaten half to death by an ogre was definitely my goal when we set out this morning!”

“This morning?” Mahariel repeats, staring at him for a moment before she’s glaring again. “Alistair, you’ve been out for nearly three days!” Alistair blinks, his anger suddenly growing cold in his chest. “Wynne’s nearly exhausted herself healing all your internal injuries, and I didn’t..!” She trails off, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears as she looks away, and the pang that goes through him isn’t from his injuries this time.

“Oh..” Alistair mumbles, trailing off as well when he finds he doesn’t know what to say. Mahariel huffs, shaking her head before brushing her forearm across her eyes and looking down at him again. “Was it really that bad?”

“I didn’t think you were going to wake up, Alistair.. There was so much blood, you were barely breathing by the time we got back to camp and..” Mahariel sighs heavily, reaching over and gently pressing her hand to his cheek, and Alistair immediately leans into her touch. “I thought you were dead, Alistair..”

“I.. I’m so sorry, love,” Alistair replies quietly as he sets his hand on top of hers, sighing softly when he feels her palm faintly trembling against his skin. “I really am.. I didn’t mean to make you worry so much.”

“Well you didn’t do a very good job of that,” Mahariel answers, but she smiles a little as she leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and then to his lips. “I thought I was going to lose you back there..”

“Not this time,” Alistair assures her, leaning over for another kiss but he pulls back with another hiss when his stomach cramps with a fresh wave of pain. Mahariel shakes her head with a smile, gently pushing him back onto the bed roll. Alistair sighs, brushing a hand over his face as Mahariel peels the bandages back to inspect his wounds. “Guess I’ll be stuck on this thing for another day or two..”

“Wynne’s going to do whatever else she can tomorrow, but you’re still looking at another day at the least,” Mahariel agrees, smiling softly when Alistair heaves a dramatic sigh. “But I guess I can keep you company, you big baby..”

“You spoil me, my dear,” Alistair chuckles, closing his eyes with a soft hum as Mahariel brushes her fingers through his short hair. “If it gets me so much attention maybe I should get myself hurt more often.”

“Do that and I’m leaving you in whatever ditch you fall in.” Mahariel replies, and their companions turn to look their way as their joined laughter echoes across the camp.

\-----------------------


	3. "Of course I’m in.” (Gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”
> 
> Pairing(s): None  
> Warning(s): None

\-----------------------

"So let's go over this again," Hawke says to break the silence, "You want us to charge into that house, not knowing how many Carta members are inside, on the off-chance that the stash you were tipped about might contain that relic you're after?"

"That's the plan," Isabela replies, her eyes glinting at the prospect of finally acquiring the prize she'd been after for over three years. "They've gotten too damn complacent after running out the last of Athenril's men. Trust me on this Hawke, we'll catch them with their pants down!"

"Why would their pants be down?" Merrill pipes up from where she's crouched down beside Varric, gaining the attention of the entire group. "Oh wait, was that another dirty joke? Did I miss the punchline again? Or was that the punchline?"

"Try not to take everything Isabela says literally, Daisy," Varric calls over to her with a fond shake of his head. "You'll give yourself a headache trying to keep up with half of what she says."

"Oh.. Well what about the other half?" Merrill asks quietly, blinking when Varric just sighs. Hawke and Isabel exchange amused looks before turning their gazes back towards the seemingly empty mansion in front of them.

"Doesn't really look like there's anyone here, Bela," Hawke remarks quietly as he strides forward, waving a hand to signal for the others to follow after him.

"I'm also not sure that the Carta would risk setting up base in Hightown of all places," Varric adds, resting Bianca against his shoulder. "Just how reliable was this contact of yours anyway?"

"Scab's never given me a bad tip before, and he knows what'll happen if that ever changes." Isabela replies, nearly running right into Hawke as he suddenly stops mid-step and looks back at her over his shoulder.

"We're running off a tip from a guy named Scab?" Hawke asks her in a deadpan tone, to which Isabela just smiles and shrugs back at him.

"His real name's actually Larry, but that's just so dull so I call him Scabs." she explains, sighing softly when Hawke just continues to stare at her. "Look, we've got a lead and it's supposed to be a good one, so let's just get in there, gut some Carta members, and find the stash. That's what we do best, isn't it?"

“You've got a good point there," Hawke replies, grinning he pulls his staff from the holster on his back and faces the mansion again. "Father used to say there was no point in having a talent if you don't use it."

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist a good fight," Isabela replies, though Hawke catches the note of genuine gratitude in her voice. "It's good to know you've got my back in this."

"Always have, always will. But if this turns out to be another dead end then you're going to have to make this up to us," Hawke adds as he leads them towards the house. "We're missing Poetry Night at the Hanged Man for this after all."

"Oh, I love Poetry Night," Merrill remarks as she follows after Hawke closely. "But I don't always understand some of them, and why is that one man obsessed with games about hiding sausages? Is that some human custom?"

"I'll explain that one to you once we're done here, Kitten, and don't worry Hawke. I'm sure I'll think of some way to make it up to you," Isabela replies with a wink, drawing her daggers from their sheaths as Hawke kicks the door of the mansion open and leads the charge into the dark house.

\-----

"So anyway, when we got into the house we were all expecting the Carta to be inside, so we started to attack as soon as we saw movement," Hawke explains, leaning against the bar of the cell door. "So imagine our surprise when the smoke clears and we realize that it's just a maid tidying up the house."

"The only thing I'm imagining right now is the look on Leandra's face when I have to tell her that you've been arrested," Aveline replies, her arms folded over her chest as she glares at the four people currently locked in the cell. "Breaking and entering? Do I even want to know what you were thinking, Hawke?"

"I was thinking that I was helping out a friend, and I'm wounded that you're not a little more sympathetic," Hawke replies, though his grin falters a little when Aveline continues to glare at him. "But.. if it makes you feel better I'm very sorry that you had to come here in the middle of the night."

"That actually doesn't make me feel better in the slightest but I'll give you credit for trying." Aveline sighs, all of them looking towards the doorway as Guardsman Donnic strides into the room.

"Well the good news is that the homeowners have decided to not press criminal charges against Hawke and his friends," Donnic announces as he comes to a stop beside Aveline, arms folded behind his back. "But they do ask that Hawke and his companions pay for the damages done to their foyer. "

"That settles that until tomorrow then," Aveline sighs with relief, turning away from Hawke to address Donnic. "We'll sort out the matter of payment in the morning but for now let's head home, Donnic. Goodnight Hawke."

"Wait a minute, you're just going to leave us locked in here all night?" Isabela suddenly protests. "Donnic just said they weren't pressing charges!"

"No, but with the four of you locked in here I'll be able to rest easy for once." Aveline calls over her shoulder as she strides out of the room, and Donnic gives them an apologetic shrug before he follows after her, shutting the door behind him with a loud clang.

"Huh.. Well, it looks like we're going to be stuck in here until morning," Hawke announces as he turns on his heel to face the dwarf and the two women sitting on the cell's single cot. "Anyone have any suggestions about how to pass the time?"

"I've got one," Isabela replies, reaching into her boot and pulling out a set of lock picks, grinning as she waves them in Hawke's face. "I did have a second tip about a stash out on the Wounded Coast in case the Hightown mission turned out to be a bust."

"I see. So, we break out of the cell, sneak out of the Viscount's Keep, get through Hightown without being spotted by a patrol, risk an attack by bandits and-or Tal-Vashoth once we actually get to the Wounded Coast, and you want us to do all of this at the risk of facing Aveline's wrath once we get back?"

"When you put it like that we should probably swing by and pick up Anders first," Isabela shrugs as a familiar glint shines in her eyes. "But I've got a good feeling about this stash, Hawke. Are you with me?"

“I'm not going to sugarcoat it this time, Isabela.. This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had." Hawke replies, grinning as he steps aside to give her access to the door lock. "Of course I’m in.”

\-----

"So you decided to celebrate not having charges of breaking and entering by breaking out of my prison?" Aveline asks the following morning, once again standing in front of a cell and glaring at the group locked inside. "I won't even bother asking for the explanation behind that one but I do have to ask; Was it worth it, Hawke?"

"Was it worth getting attacked by dozens of Tal-Vashoth and then getting arrested _again_ over a stash that contained a few badly-written poems and an old boot?" Hawke asks before turning around to stare at Isabela, who was sitting on the cot between Varric and Anders. "I'm going to have to say no, Aveline, that stash wasn't worth it."

"Well it _could've_ contained the relic," Isabela replies, falling silent again as a chorus of sighs rise up around her.

\-----------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt request? Leave it in the comments, or send it to my Dragon Age blog, MaharielofFerelden!


	4. “You lied to me.” (M!Hawke/Anders)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “You lied to me."
> 
> Pairing:M!Hawke/Anders. Implied Fenris/Bethany.  
> Warnings: None

\-----------------------

Hawke leaned against the railing of the ship that rocked steadily with the rolls of the ocean, his arms folded over his chest and his broadsword propped up beside him. He was exhausted and sore, and he was sure that every inch of him was coated with a layer of soot or blood. His friends, scattered around him, looked as worn and tired as he felt.

Isabela was, of course, on the upper deck, her hand on the wheel and her eyes on the horizon. At first she didn't look nearly as phased as the others, but Hawke could see how tightly she gripped the rungs of the wheel while her other hand lingered near her sash, where Hawke knew she kept a spare dagger.

Bethany sat on a bench a short distance away from Isabela with her staff discarded on the ground, her arms resting against her knees as she stared blankly ahead of her. Fenris was seated beside her, his mouth set in a thin line as he sharpened the blade of his sword against a whetstone, but his movements were sloppy and distracted.

The scraping sound was loud and insistent, grating in Hawke’s ears, but just as he turned to snap at the elf Bethany reached over towards Fenris, closing her hand around the one that held the whetstone and pulling it away. Fenris scowled but otherwise didn't protest against her touch, even as his sword slipped from his lap, and the sound of the metal clattering against the wooden desk echoed in the air.

The air had never felt thicker around them.

Kirkwall was still in sight but it was little more than a blur in the distance, and the friends who’d stayed behind felt further away than ever. Varric had stayed in spite of all of Hawke’s pleading. Kirkwall was his home, after all, and as he put it, ‘someone had to stay behind and clean up this mess’. Merrill had stayed behind as well, tearfully telling them that the elves of the alienage would need protection or they’d be butchered in the chaos.

Another chunk of Hawke’s family was gone. Their group was even more broken than it had been before, and this time Hawke knows that one of his well-timed joke won’t be met with any smiles.

“Damn it..” Hawke mumbles, brushing a hand through his hair as he turns away from the others to look over at the single man sitting alone on the far end of the deck.

Anders..

He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left Kirkwall, and Hawke still doesn’t know if that’s relieving or more troubling. The news would spread and the aftershocks of his actions against the Chantry would be felt for years to come, and Hawke just prayed that all of them, especially Anders, would be ready for it.

He also wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about what Anders had done. Angry? Ecstatic? Confused? Disappointed? Surprised? Numb?

Maybe saying that he felt all of them at once would have been the most appropriate. Hawke felt no sorrow for the loss of a Chantry building. He felt no remorse towards the Grand Cleric’s death. They’d been as instrumental in the suffering of mages in Kirkwall for years, and yes, Hawke had agreed that things needed to change for the mages, but had Anders really thought this all through?

Now the world would come down even harder on those with magic, and the mages would have to fight back with more ferocity than before. The Mage-Templar War was an inevitability that had been hanging over their heads for decades, but Hawke never imagined that he’d literally be there to witness the spark that finally caught fire.

In spite of all the good friends it had given him, Hawke almost wished he’d never stepped foot in Kirkwall.

“So, a Tevinter potion,” Hawke remarks as he approaches Anders, who jumps a little at the sound of his voice. “I really fell for that one didn’t I? I’m beginning to see why Bethany’s always been considered the smart one.” Anders frowns up at him before turning away with a sigh. He looks more exhausted and ragged than he ever has before, and that was definitely saying something.

“Would it have worked if I said anything else?” Anders asks quietly, jumping again when Hawke suddenly turns and plops down onto the bench beside him, folding his arms over his broad chest as the wood creaks beneath the sudden combined weight.

“Would it have mattered?” Hawke asks, staring across the deck and out towards the ocean spanning around them. A gull cries out as it flies overhead. Anders says nothing. “You were going to do this whether I helped you or not.. I guess you just needed someone stupid enough to believe that a potion could separate spirit and host.”

“That’s not true,” Anders protests, his brow furrowing as he turns to face Hawke again. “I don’t think you’re stupid Hawke, I just needed someone I could trust to help me. If I’d told you the truth, you might’ve-”

“I’ve had a lot of people throw their bullshit at me over the last few years, Anders,” Hawke interrupts, fixing the mage beside him with a sharp glare. “I just didn’t expect the worst one to be one of my friends, and especially not _you_!” Anders draws back, gaping at Hawke for a moment before he looks away with another heavy sigh.

Hawke turns away as well, glaring at the floor, and he can feel the eyes of their remaining companions on the pair of them. He was honestly surprised that Fenris wasn’t already approaching them, telling them both exactly what was on his mind, but Hawke imagined that Bethany was keeping him and his temper at bay. Anders sighs again, softly this time, and Hawke’s attention snaps back to the mage.

“Hawke, I..”

“You lied to me.” Hawke mutters, still keeping his gaze fixed ahead of him. “You lied, and I fell for it so damn easily.. Now I can’t help wondering if that was the first time.

“It was, Hawke.” Anders replies quietly, and Hawke sighs, his eyes sliding shut. “I know you don’t have reason to believe me right now, but this really was the first time, I swear…”

“You said you needed someone you could trust but you didn’t trust me, Anders.” Hawke continues, finally raising his head to face Anders. “You kept me in the dark, even knowing that it could’ve helped you. I could’ve made things easier if I’d only known.”

“That wouldn’t have made anything easier and we both know it,” Anders replies in a defeated tone, slumping back against the railing of the ship. “But.. I’m sorry, Hawke. Maybe I should’ve let you in or maybe keeping you out was the right thing, but it doesn’t matter now.”

“Bullshit,” Hawke growls, and Anders blinks as Hawke suddenly reaches over, taking Anders’ hand in his own and entwining their fingers. “Now it’s the only damn thing that matters. People are going to rise up all around us, Anders, and not just the Mages and the Templars. I need you to be ready, because there’s no way I can face everything that’s coming on my own.”

“You.. Wait, Hawke, you really still want me with you?” Anders asks, his voice nearly breaking in disbelief, and Hawke gives him the first smile he’s managed to muster since he was summoned to Hightown to break up a fight between Meredith and Orsino. Those short hours felt like a lifetime ago..

“You asked me once if I’d be willing to stand beside an apostate and tell the world that I loved him,” Hawke replies and he leans back and presses himself against Anders’ side, smiling again when Anders shifts closer as well. “Everything else around us is going to change, but there might as well be one thing in my wreck of a life that stays the same..”

\-----------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt request? Leave it in the comments, or send it to my Dragon Age blog, MaharielofFerelden!


	5. “Stay with me?” (Fenris/Bethany)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Stay with me?”
> 
> Pairing: Fenris/Bethany  
> Warnings: None

\-----------------------

Getting himself into the Gallows had been much easier than Fenris had anticipated.

Then again, he’d had help. Hawke had called in the favor that Ser Thrask owed him, and after explaining why Fenris needed to get into the mage quarters the Templar had been more than happy to help smuggle Fenris in. He would have to get himself out, since Thrask’s shift was nearly over, but Fenris was confident in his abilities to get away from the Gallows unnoticed once his business was concluded.

But now that he was here, doing what he’d set out to do, Fenris almost wishes that he hadn’t volunteered for the mission..

But someone had to do it. The events of the previous night had broken Hawke down harder than anything Fenris had witnessed before, so Garrett couldn’t do it. Being apostates, Merrill and Anders couldn’t risk coming to the Gallows at all. Varric didn’t have the stealth to get in and out unnoticed, Aveline was too blunt to be the one breaking this kind of news, and Isabela had outright said that she wasn’t the comforting type, though Fenris suspected that it was really because she and Anders were taking turns watching over Hawke. Moreover, not a damn one of them trusted the task to Gamlen, and so the task had fallen to him, and he wasn’t happy about it.

Or, more accurately, Fenris wasn’t happy about being the one to see Bethany’s heart breaking when she learned about Leandra Hawke’s murder.

He’d broken the news to her as gently as he could, but that hadn’t stopped her from bursting into tears, and it hadn’t soothed the harsh sobs that shook her body until Fenris gently embraced her, holding her against him as he tried to calm her before eventually deciding that she just needed to let it out.

Eventually her sobs start to die down, but he can still feel her body faintly shaking against his, so Fenris keeps his hold on her and gently rubs a hand up and down her back. The gesture is unfamiliar and a little awkward to him, but at least the contact seemed to sooth the trembling mage in his arms.

If nothing else, Fenris was glad that the rooms the mages slept in, being converted from prison cells, were only large enough to house one mage at a time. It at least gave Bethany some privacy to mourn the loss of her mother..

“Do you know how it happened, Fenris?” Bethany asks quietly, breaking the partial silence and drawing back to brush the back of her hand across her wet eyes. “D-Did that man say why he did it?”

‘Because he was an insane blood mage and that’s what they do,’ Fenris almost replies, but he quickly catches himself. Bethany knew what his opinion of Blood Mages was already, and she definitely didn’t need his cynicism at the moment.

“That’s.. not something you want to know right now,” Fenris replies quietly, “But you should at least know that your brother saw to it that your mother and the other women were avenged. No one else will ever die at his hands again.”

“Good,” Bethany huffs, her voice breaking, “I-It’ll be easier, knowing that no one else will have to feel this way because of him..”

Fenris frowns, his chest tightening a little at her words. Here Bethany was, locked away in the Gallows because she possessed magic she’d never even wanted, unable to comfort or even see the very few relatives she had left now, and she was consoling herself with the knowledge that a murderous blood mage wouldn’t damage the lives of hypothetical victims rather than focusing on what she’d lost.

Why would the Maker put someone so kind and so gentle into this world, only to throw so many tragedies at her? It just seemed like a damn cruel joke, even to him.

“Aveline’s going to speak with Meredith tomorrow, to try and negotiate arrangements for you to attend a memorial service.” Fenris speaks up again. “It might take a few days, but even she can’t deny the Champion of Kirkwall right now.”

Bethany nods back at him with a quiet sigh, and an oddly comfortable silence falls between them for a few long moments before Bethany raises her head to meet his gaze.

“I’m tired, Fenris..” she says quietly, and Fenris gives her a curt nod of understanding, drawing his hand away from where it still rested against her lower back as Bethany stepped away from him to face the bed behind her.

Fenris watches, remaining silent as she unfastens the clasps of her thick outer robe and shrugs out of it to reveal the thinner, sleeveless robe she wore beneath. Her outer robe pools at her feet, and Fenris strides forward to pick it up, crudely folding it and setting it onto a nearby chair as Bethany lies down in her bed, sighing softly as soon as her head hits the pillow.

He steps back and starts to turn away from her, intent of leaving her be for the night, but he pauses and looks back when he feels the sudden light grip on his wrist. Bethany is staring up at him, her eyes still shining with unshed tears.

“Stay with me?” she asks him quietly. Fenris doubts that he could walk away right now even if he wanted to, and Hawke was in good enough hands for the time being..

Fenris nods down at her, and Bethany manages a small, shaky smile as she moves back to make room for him. The bed was small but there was still enough room for the both of them to lay comfortably, and Fenris pauses long enough to at least remove his gauntlets before he settles down beside the young mage.

Bethany scoots closer, noticeably mindful of his Lyrium markings as she presses herself against him. Fenris stiffens briefly, still growing used to sudden physical contact, but Bethany’s presence is far from a discomfort, and he waits until his body relaxes before he raises an arm and gently drapes it across Bethany’s waist. She hums quietly at the contact, her head resting against his shoulder, and Fenris lets out a soft sigh of his own as he leans his head against hers.

She was so warm. Fenris briefly wonders if all mages felt this warm, or if this was just one more thing that made Bethany special..

It’s another long while before Bethany actually falls asleep, but Fenris, accustomed to the length of a sleepless nights, is more than content to keep her company, offering quiet words of comfort and reassurance, or listening to Bethany’s quiet stories about Leandra until she finally dozes off, and once he’s sure that she’s asleep Fenris closes his eyes, tilting his head to gently touch his forehead to hers.

“You deserve so much better..” he whispers quietly. His only reply is the sound of Bethany’s gentle breathing but for the moment, that was enough.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt request? Leave it in the comments, or send it to my Dragon Age blog, MaharielofFerelden!


	6. A Cute Kiss (Fenris/Bethany)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Stay with me?”
> 
> Pairing: Fenris/Bethany  
> Warnings: None

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“… sent away in a hurry. The comte had clearly expected trouble, and trouble had come to call,” Fenris read out loud, holding the novel with one hand and lazily brushing his hand through Bethany’s hair with the other. Bethany, who lay beside him with her head resting against his shoulder, hummed softly at the contact. “The comte kept all of his letters. Decades of.. What word is that?”

Fenris held the book closer as Bethany raised her head, her eyes skimming over the page before she found the sentence that Fenris had trailed off on.

“Correspondence,” Bethany reads, smiling when she hears Fenris let out a quiet huff in reply. “A correspondence is a contact you exchange letters with.”

“Why couldn’t he just say ‘contact’, then?” Fenris grumbles quietly as he turns to the next page with his thumb. “I fail to understand Varric’s need to use unnecessarily long words, or why I have to learn from these novels.”

“Well, it was either those or a ridiculously detailed history of Orlesian Puff Pastries,” Bethany says as she lays her head back down, nuzzling her face into the crook of Fenris’ neck. “I can talk to Garrett about getting more books when he and Anders get back, but you’ve been making great progress.”

“I hope so, considering all the hours I’ve spent reading these things,” Fenris replies, laying the novel down against his chest as he tilts his head to lean it against Bethany’s, and he almost smiles when he feels her gentle swat against his stomach.

“You’re supposed to be reading,” Bethany mumbles into the side of his neck, though she makes no further effort to turn Fenris’ attention back to his task. Fenris, likewise, just rolls over to face the young woman beside him and lazily nuzzles his face against hers.

“I find this is much more enjoyable,” he replies before pressing a gentle kiss to Bethany’s forehead. Bethany smiles, reaching up to brush some of his hair out of his face, and he shivers a little when her fingers trace against the helix of his ear.

“Can’t argue with that,” Bethany replies, and as she leans forward to kiss him the discarded novel that had slipped between them was all but forgotten.

  
\-----------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt request? Leave it in the comments, or send it to my Dragon Age blog, MaharielofFerelden!


End file.
